The Royal Syndrome
by always-purpleflowers
Summary: Professional bank robber Nathan Scott goes by his middle name Royal who lives life with no strings attached. He is a leader of a ruthless gang who prides themselves of stealing whatever they want. However, their latest assignment take an unexpected turn.


**Author's Note: **Hello, thanks for having an interest in this story. I've been working on this story for the longest time. And now I finally decided to publish it. If you haven't watch the movie, _The Town_ directed, written and acted by Ben Affleck, you are missing out. He is the inspiration behind this story. I loved how complex the story was yet you can't help but loved his character. So this is basically my version with Naley. Hope you enjoy and all feedback is welcome.

_P.S_ If you are a reader of my other story, _A Broken Wing,_ I promise I will have a new chapter up soon. Life been a bit crazy; thanks for understanding.

Disclaimer: I do not own OTH. This story is based on the movie "The Town."

Caution: Strong Language Used.

##

_Ever heard of the phrase "life's a bitch?" Well life is my bitch because life is what you make of it. Sounds confusing? Well let me break it down for ya. _

_My name is Nathan Scott. But ain't nobody here calls me that. First name is important, ya know. It's usually a name that is given by a close family member. There's always some sort of a sentimental attachment there – names. _

_Anyway, I go by Royal. Everybody knows me. And not that kind of "knows me, knows me," none of that personal relationship shit. And no, I didn't come from a King and a Queen. Unless a King and a Queen means jail and a drug addict then yes King and Queen sound about right. My father Dan murdered his own flesh and blood. His own brother Keith who we call K-man, short for cave man, apparently slept with my mother, the never-ending drug addict or so I've heard anyway. I was only eight. My life was fucked up, some might say but I say it allowed me the freedom to do pretty much whatever the fucked I want._

_Like I said, life is my bitch. I make my own life. I live by my own rules. Laws don't exist in my world. If there are laws I break them. Where's the fun when you have no control? _

##

It was a sunny day. The kind of day where you didn't have to turn on your lights in the morning because the sun light will come through the windows and makes it's permanent stay for awhile, if one's lucky. It's the kind of day where purple flowers are blooming, birds are chirping and acoustic guitars are jamming away. However, it is also the kind of day where everyone just mined his or her own business. Some might say, it's the kind of opportunity where there are no witnesses.

A beat up van seats eight pulls up in front of a polish café name _Jimmy & Lydia's Café. _He puts it in park and turns around to five puzzled faces looking at him for instructions.

"What the fuck are we doing here? This ain't no bank." Fergie looks around, almost disappointed.

"Recognize this place?"

Skills nods his head. "Yeah dawg, this place got some bomb ass cheesecake but they ain't got no benjamins here! You trippin.' "

"Listen up you dumb fucks! This café is owned by no ordinary owner. You see that name Jimmy? He's the lead singer of the legendary band _The Criminals." _

"The criminals? How ironic is this." His brother chuckles.

"I ain't heard of em.'" Skills lies back and prop his legs on the cup holder next to window.

"I don't care if you ain't heard of them because frankly, skills you ain't heard of anything."

Skills roll his eyes, bringing his legs back down and mumbles to himself. "Like you is hella educated."

"Hmm?" Royal puts his index finger behind his left ear. "You got a plan, dawg?"

Hesitantly, Skills shakes his head while throwing stares at his other four-gang mates.

"Well, then shut the fuck up and listen. I checked this place out a few days ago and I've noticed there's a huge ass safe behind the counter where all the pastries and shit sit on top. There are probably records, memorabilia's that are worth millions that we can sell. Also, take notice, it's a safe, it is highly unlikely that a bunch of cash is not in there. All right? Anyone got anything to say?"

Skills raise his hand. "Yeah, can we cop them cheesecakes to? Cause ya know, after we done with this place, it ain't gone be open and they cakes be cracking!"

The gang looks at him and shakes his head. They proceed to put on their masks; this time it's clowns. Clowns are always someone's nightmare.

Skills grabs his mask and declares, "Ya'll ain't getting any bite out of my cheesecake."

##

Inside the café, sits seven polished round tables with four distinct chairs around. On the side of each wall have red booths coming out. In front was a counter decorated with elegant cups from Paris and sitting on top was freshly smelled pastries that just came out of the oven. Besides the smell of delectable bake goods, there stood a young lady, smiling. Her long, silky blonde hair sits nicely below her shoulders, loosely curled. Her eyes sparkle just watching people enjoying their mornings. For her, mornings like these make her joyful. She takes a sniff out of the freshly picked purple flowers from her back yard and correctly arranges them in her style. Purple. She loves the color purple; her grandmother once said that purple is a safe color, meaning as long as the color is in the room, she'll be safe. She tilts her head from left to right, examining the flowers she arranged, and feeling that something didn't look right. Before she can figure out what was out of place, an extreme noise crashes in. A sudden frantic jolt rushes and seeps into her right arm, and knocked the vase of purple flowers as it came tumbling down from the counter.

"Get down on your knees!"

"Don't move or else your cheesecake's raspberry topping is not the only red syrup that's going to be on there!"

"Who's in charge of this café?"

Silence ensues.

Three gunshots went off.

"Alright who's the motherfucker that's in charge of this place?"

The girl behind the counter sits there froze as tears come rushing down her face. She inhales.

"Alright! I am not playing any fucking cat and mouse. Or some child shit, hide and seek. You either show your face or this old whore's head will be hanging off of your Christmas tree as ornaments."

Unbalanced, the girl slowly stands up and quietly announces, "I'm-m-m in charge. Please don't hurt her."

"So…this place is your bitch." The clown walks towards her, kicking and pushing all the tables to make way. "What's your name?"

"H-a-a-a-ley-y-y."

The clown grabs a plate of cheesecake and gobbles it up. "Well, H-a-a-a-ley-y…" He mimics. "This is good cheesecake." He points to the empty plate. "But it's not good enough to keep that pretty little head of yours."

A flash of Joker came to Haley's mind. She was deathly afraid of clowns; any face that is made up to the point where your facial expressions are no longer detected frightens her.

Royal secures his mask, comes rushing up behind his clown-out gang mate. He tugs on him and tells him to pull back.

"Haley right?"

She nods.

"Look, we're not going to hurt you."

Royal loosely wraps his arms around her tiny waist. "It's simple as long as you corporate, no one is going to get hurt. I promise."

She nods again, shaking uncontrollably. Royal leads her out behind the counter and into the big dining area. Staring at her, all five clowns were scattered throughout the dining space with big machine guns in their hands pointing at every direction while customers were laying, sitting or standing frightened out of their minds.

"Alright bitch, cut with this nodding crap. Where the fuck is the safe?"

##

Clowned Royal walks behind her as two out of the five-clowned men follows suit. They arrived to the safe, which was tucked behind a big picture frame of her _late _father, _Jimmy James_. She looks up to the picture and closes her eyes. Her eyelashes flutter as drops of tears from each corner of her eyes come pouring.

Clowned Fergie becomes fed up. "Look we ain't got time for this, bitch. Open the fucking safe." He pulls the trigger at an old man, lying five feet away from her. He pulls the trigger back again.

Hearing the trigger being pulled back, she quickly inhales. "Stop it. Please. _Please_. It's behind this picture frame."

Clowned Royal signals his two men to pull it down. Haley slowly walks up to the safe. Reaching her arm out, her right hand is shaking. Seeing this, Royal gently put his right hand over hers, placing it on the combination lock. He then moves slowly next to her ear and said, "Everything will be all right. Just stay calm, dial and turn."

Closing her eyes, Haley bites her lips and thinks for a second. And without hesitation, she dials in the combination. It was easy; it was her father and mother's birthday combined. In a second, the safe opens. And there it is – her father's precious treasures - records, memorabilia's, plaques, and of course all the cash anyone can dream of - you name it. Devastating to watch, she takes a stumble back as Clowned Skills take her back and tell her to drop to the floor with her hands up while the gang unloads the safe.


End file.
